
Glass_Fij2._ 
Book _i_r_M. 



7r 



BKJEF ACCOUNT 



v^ 



OF JIV ^«Mri«w«^. 

^ ^ £?•"■■ 



K\i^[ici8i^;s Fiio^i MY childhood: 



l.e.Vf \yVlH MV J)I<,/VK OALKiHTKH , 



(; 1 LI K I-M V MART \ PE N N. 



MARY I^ENINGTON 



r[iILAi)l::Li'lliA 

18-18. 






BMfea «ilai«wii 






Mary PeniiVoton, the authoress of the following iiarratiTe, 
was a daughter of Sir John Proude, a native of the Countv of 
Kent. He was an officer in the service of the States ol' Holland, 
and was killed at the siege of Groll in Guelderland, in the year 
1628. 

She was twice married. Her first husband was Sir William 
Springett, a colonel in the army of the Parliament during the 
great civil war. By him she had a daughter Gulielma Maria 
Springett, who became the wife of William Fenn, and to whom 
this narrative was addressed, and which is now for the first time 
printed. 

Her second husband- was Isaac Penington, one of the early 
writers of the Society of Friends. By this mai-riage she had 
several children. Edward Pknington, the third son, emigrated to 
Pennsylvania, and was appointed Surveyor General of the Pro- 
vince, which office he held at the time of his death in Philadelphia, 
in the year 1701, 

She died at Wormiiigimrst in Sussex, July 18, 1682, havnig 
survived her husband about three years, and was interred at Jor- 
dans, in Burkiiighamsliire. 

H. P. 

Philadelphia, Sept. 20, 1818. 



The first Scripture that I remember I took notice of was 
this, " Blessed are they that hunfjer and thirst alter righteous- 
ness for they shall be filled." Tiiis 1 heard taken for a text: 
I was then about eight years of age : brought up by those 
who were a kindol loose Protestants, that mind no Religion, 
but go to their worship on first days, which was to hear a 
canonical I'riest preach in the morning, and read common 
])rayers in the afternoon ; and they used common prayers in 
the family, and observed superstitious customs and times and 
days of feasting and fasling, as Christmas, (so called,) Good 
Friday, l^ent, and such like. At that time, when I was afraid 
in the night season of such things as would run in my mind, 
«»f Spirits walking and of thieves, I would always account 
prayer my help and succour, and so would often say, (as I 
had been taught) that which is called the Lord's I'rayer, 
hoping by that to be delivered from the things I feared. 

Afterwards, I went to live with some that seemed to be 
more religious, and would not admit of sports on the first 
day, calling it the Sabbath, and heard two sermons a day of 
a Priest that was not loose in his conversation, but he used 
a form of prayer before his sermon and read common prayer. 
At this time 1 was about ten or eleven years of age, and a 
maid servant, that tended on me and the rest of the children, 
was zealous in that way, and would read Smith's and Pres- 
ton's Sermons on first day between the sermon time: I dili- 
gently heard her read, and liked not to use the Lord's prayer 
alone, but got a prayer book, and read prayers mornings and 
nights, according to the days and occasions, and left saying 
that prayer in my bed, mornings and nights, (as 1 had been 
taught at the forementioned place.) That scripture, viz: of 
howling on their beds was much on my mind, and by it I 
was checked from saying prayers in my bed. About this 



tiiDc II, y iriirjd was serious about religion, and one day after 
we came frt»rn the public place of worship, this foremcntioned 
maid servant, read one of Preston's sermons — the text, "j)ray 
conlinualiy" — in which sermon much was spoken of prayer, 
and amongst other ihinc^s, of the excellency of praver; this 
was said of it, that it distinguished a saint from the world, 
for, that in many things, the world and hypocrites could im- 
itate a saint, but in this they could not. This thing wrought 
much in my mind all the time she read it, and it was in me, 
that I knew not prayer ; for w hat I used for prayer, an un- 
godly man might do, which was to read out of a book, and 
this could nol be the prayer he meant, that distinguished a 
saint from a wicked one. My mind was deeply exercised in 
this, and as soon as she had done reading, ami all was gone 
out of the chamber, 1 shut to the door, and in great distress 
of mind, flung myself on llie bed and opprcssedly ciied out 
aloud. Lord what is prayer? This wrought so in me, that at 
night when I used to read a prayer in a bix.ik in a room by 
myself, I wept and was in trouble about it. At this time I 
never heard any, nor of any that praye(J otherwise than by 
composing a prayer, which they called a form of prayer : the 
thing so wrought, that as I remember the next morning or 
very soon after, it came into my mind to write a prayer of 
my own comf)osing, to use in the morning: so as soon as I 
was out of my bed, I wrote a prayer, and 1 then could scarce 
join my letters, I had learnt so little a time to write. I writ 
somethnig of this nature — That as the Lord conuuanded the 
Israelites to oiler up a morning sacrifice, so I otlered up the 
sacrifice of prayer, and desired to be preserved that day and 
to that purpose. The use of this for a little lime gave me 
some ease, and 1 left my books soon ; and it arose in me to 
write prayers acc^ording to my several occasions. The next 
I)rayer I wrote was for the assurance of pardon for my sins. 
I heard one preach that God paidoned David and his sins, 
of his free grace, and I was much atlectcd with it. 

As I came fn)m the place of worship, it was in me, that 
it was a desiriible thing to be assiu'ed of the pardon of one's 
sins; so I wrote a jiretty large jirayer concerning it, and felt 
that it coming of grace, (though I was unworthy,) yet I 
might receive pardon, and so used earnest ex])ressions about 
it. A little time 'after, I received some acknowledgments 
from several |)crsons, of the greatness of my memory, and 
praise for it : I felt a fear of being pulTed up with it, and wrote 
a player of thanks for that gift, and desires to use it to the 
Loid, and that it might be sauctilied to me, and I not pufii^^d 
up with it. These three prayers I used with some ease of 



mind, but not long : for then 1 began again to question whetli- 
er I prayed right or not, and much trouble was in my mind 
about it,' and l knew not that any did pray extempore ; but it 
sprang up in my mind, that to use words according to the 
sense I was in, was prayer which I attempted to do but could 
not. Sometimes kneeling down a long time, and had not a 
word to say, which wrought great trouble in me, and I had 
none to reveal myself to nor advise with, but bore a great 
burthen on my mind a pretty time, till one day, as I was sit- 
ting at work in a parlour, one, called a gentleman, thai was 
against the superstitions of the times, came in, and looking 
sadly, said " it was a sad day :" this was soon after Prim 
Bastwick and Burton were sentenced to have their ears cut 
and to be banished. This thing sunk deep into me, and strong 
cries was in me for them, and for the innocent people in the 
nation; -and it wrought so strong in me, that I could not sit 
at my work, but went into a private room, and shutting the 
door kneeled down and poured out my soul to the Lord in a 
very vehement manner for a pretty time, and was wonderfully 
melted and eased. I felt peace in the thing, acceptance with 
the l^ord, and that this was prayer; which I never was ac- 
quainted with before, either in myself or from any one. Not 
long after this, word was brought to the house, that a neigh- 
bouring Minister that had been suspended by the Bishops for 
not being subject to their canons, was returned to his peo- 
ple again, and that he was to preach at the place where he 
did three years before, (being suspended so long.) I hearing 
of it desired to go, but was reproved by those who had the 
education of me, as being not fit to leave my Parish church, 
but I could not comply with their mind in it, but I must go, 
and when I came I found the minister was one called a Pu- 
ritan, and he prayed fervently and in much sense; and then 
I fell this is that prnyer which my mind pressed after but 
could not come at it in my own will, but only had tasted of 
it that time I mentioned before. Now I knew this was prayer; 
but I mourned sorely for that I kneeled down morning after 
morning, and night after night, and had not a word to say, 
and the trouble of this was so great, that it appeared to me 
just, that I should perish in the night because I had not prayed, 
and in the day that my food might not prosper with me, be- 
cause 1 could not pray: I was exercised with this a great 
time. Then 1 could not come to the common prayer that 
was read in the family a nights, nor could I kneel down, 
when I came to their worship house (as was the custom and 
I had been taught) but this scripture was in my mind, " Be 
more ready to hear than offer the sacrifice of fools," and I 



could hut rend the Bible or sonic other book, whilst the priest 
read coimnon prayer at their worship house; and at last I 
could neither kneel nor stand up to join with the priest in his 
pravers before the sermons, neither did I care to hear hi'm 
preach, but my mind ran after hearing the non-conformist^ 
called a Puritan, before mentioned ; but I by constraint went 
in the morning with those of the family where I was, but 
could not be kept from the Puritan preacher in the afternoon. 
I went through much suflering for this, being forced to go 
on foot two or three miles, and none permitted to go with me; 
but a servant in compassion would sometimes run after 
me least I should be frighted going alone. I was very young, 
but so zealous in this, that all their reasoning and threatnings 
could not keep me back, and in a short time 1 would not hear 
the priest where we dwelt, at all, but went, wet or dry, to 
the other place. I would go in with the family to hear scrip- 
ture read; but if I did happen to go in before they had done 
their prayers, 1 would sit when they kneeled. These things 
wrought much trouble in the I'amily, and there was none to 
take mv part but two of the maid servants, who were in- 
clined to mind what I said against their prayers, and so re- 
fused to join with them, which the governors of the family 
were much disturbed at, and made me the subject of their 
discourse in company ; as that 1 would pray with the spirit, 
and rejected Godly men's prayers, and I was proud, and a 
schismatick, that I went to those places to meet young men, 
and such like. 

In this time I suflercd not only from these persons to whom 
I was bv my parents committed (who both died when I was 
not above three years of age,) but also sulTered much frorn 
my companions and kindred ; notwithstanding which, in this 
zeal I grew much, and was sequestered from vain company, 
refused carding and such like things, and was a zealous keep- 
er of the Sabbath, not daring to eat such things as occasioned 
trouble or spend time on that day that was appointed for 
hearing and praying. 

I minded not those marriages that was propounded to me 
by vain persons, but having desired of the Lord that 1 might 
have one that feared, I had a belief that though then I knew 
none of my outward rank that was such a one. yet that the 
Lord would provide one for me; and in this belief I continued, 
not regarding their reproaches that would say to me, " that 
no gentleman, none but mean persons was of this way, and 
that I would have some mean one or other ; but they were 
disappointed, for the Lord touched the heart of him that was 
afterwards my husband, and my heart cleaved to him for the 



Lord's sake. He was a man of a good understanding, and 
had cast off those dead superstitions that were nianitcst to 
him in that day beyond any I then knew of his rank and 
years, which were but small for that stature he was of in the 
things of God ; being but ot about twenty years of age. We 
pressed much after the knowledge of the Lord and walked 
in his fear : being both very young, were joined together in 
the Lord, and refused the ring and such like things then used 
and not denied by any we knew of. We lived together 
about two years and a month ; we were zealously aflected, 
daily exercised in that we judged to be the service and wor- 
ship of God. We scrupled many things then in use amongst 
those that were counted honest people: as for instance sing- 
ing David's Psalms in metre, and when we tore out of our 
Bibles the common prayer and form of prayers at the end of 
the book : we also tore out the singing psalms, as being the 
invention of vain poets as in metre, not being written for that 
use; and we found that songs of praise must spring from the 
same thing as prayer did ; and so could not in that day use 
any one's song, no more than their prayer. We were also 
brought off from bread and wine and baptism with water, 
we having looked into the independent way, saw death there, 
and that it was not what our souls sought; and looking into 
the baptism with water, found it not to answer the cry of 
our hearts. In this state my husband died, hoping in the pro- 
mises afar off, but not seeing or knowing hiin that is invisi- 
ble to be so near him, and that it was he that shewed unto 
him his thoughts and made manifest the good and the evil. 
When he was taken from me I was with child of my dear 
daughter Gulielma Maria Springet. 

It was often with me that I could not comply with that 
thing to be done to my child which 1 saw no fruit of. but a 
custom which men were engaged in by tradition, having not 
the true knowledge: that scripture in the last of the Cala- 
tians, of circumcision or uncircumcision availing nothing, but 
a new creature, was often in my mind, and I could not but 
resolve that it should not be dono to it; and when I was de- 
livered of that child I refused to have her sprinkled, which 
brought great reproach on me, and I was a by-word and a 
hissing amongst the people of my own rank in the world, and 
a strange thing it was thought to be by my relations and ac- 
quaintance. Those who were accounted able ministers, and 
such as I formerly delighted to hear were sent to persuade 
me ; but I could not do it and be clear. He that doubts is 
damned, was my answer to them. Through this I waded, 
after some time; but soon after I went from the simplicity 



6 

into notions, i cliMn^ed my ways often, and ran from one no- 
tion lo another, not findincj satisfaction nor assurance that I 
should obtain what my sou! desired in — The several ways 
whif;h I sought aft(;r satisfaction in — I was weary of prayers 
and such hke exercises; not finding acceptation with God, nor 
could I lift my hands without doubting, nor call God, father. 
In this state and for this cause I gave over all manner of ex- 
ercises of religion in my family and in private, with much 
grief; for my delight was in being exercised in something of 
religion. I left not these things in a loose mind, as some 
judged that abode in them : for had I found that I did perform 
what the Lord required, and was well pleased with me in it, 
I could gladly have continued in them; I being zealously af- 
fected in the several things that were accounted duties : a 
/jealous sabbath keeper (as I have before expressed,) and in 
fasting often and praying in private (rarely less than three 
times a day, sometimes oftner;) a daily hearer of sermons 
upon all occasions, both lectures and fasts, and thanksgivings; 
most of n)y time in the days was spent in reading scripture, 
praying or hearing or such like; I durst not go into my bed 
till I had prayed, and I durst not pray till I had read scrip- 
ture and felt my heart warmed thereby, or by meditation. 
I had so great a zeal and delight in the exercise of religion, 
that when 1 questioned not but it was my duty, I have sought 
oftentimes in the day, remote places, as the fields, the gar- 
dens, or outhouses, when I could not be private in the house ; 
And 1 was so vehement in prayer, that I chose the most re- 
mote places to pray in, that ] might not be heard to pray, 
and could not but be loud in the earnest ])ouring out of my 
soul. Oil ! this was not parted with, but because I found it 
polluted, and my rest must not be there. I then had my con- 
versation much among the people of no religion, being 
ashamed to be counted religious, and to do any thing that 
was called so; finding my heart not with the appearance 
held forth ; and I began to loathe whatever profession any 
one made and thought in my mind that the professors of 
every sort were worse than the profane; they boasted so 
much of what I knew they had not attained : 1 being zealous 
in whatever the) pretended to, and could not find purging of 
heart, nf)r an answer from the Lord of acceptation. In this 
restless state, I let in every sort of notion that rose in that 
day, and lor a ti ite applied myself to get out of them what- 
ever I could find; but still, sorrow and trouble was the end 
of all ; and I was ready to conclude, that lliough the Lord 
and his Truth was; yet that it was made known to none upon 
earth; and I dclcrminod no more to enquire, or look after 



• 
him, for it was in vain to seek him, for he couW not be found 

in all the things I had met withal; and so for sometime took 
no notice of any religion, but minded recreation (as it is 
called,) and went into many excesses and vanities, as foolish 
mirth, carding, dancing, and singing. I frequented musick 
meetings, and made vain visits where there was jovial eat- 
ings and drinkings to satisfy the extravagant appetite. I de- 
lighted in what would please the vain mind, and with curio- 
sities, and that which was to satisfy the lust of the eye, the 
pride of life, and the lusts of the flesh ; and frequenting places 
of pleasure, where vain persons resorted to show themselves 
and to see others in the like excess of folly in apparel; in 
riding about from place to place, and in the airy mind. But 
in the midst of all this my heart was constantly sad and pained 
beyond expression. After such follies, I did retire from all 
people for days, and was in much trouble ; and to all this ex- 
cess and folly, I was not hurried by being captivated bv those 
things: having not found what 1 did seek for in religion, nor 
what I longed after, and would often say within myself, what 
is all this to me, I could easily leave all this for it hath not 
my heart; I do this because I am weary and know not what 
to do; it is not my delight, it hath not power over me; I 
had rather serve the Lord if I could indeed feel that which 
performeth acceptably to the Lord. In this restless, dis- 
tressed state, I would often retire into the country, without 
any company save my dear child G. S. and her maid, and 
there I would spend many hours in the day, bemoaning my- 
self, in that I desired the knowledge of the truth ; but was 
still deceived, and fell in with some deceitful notion or other 
that wounded me, and left me without any clearness or cer- 
tainty. One night in the retired place in the country, I went 
to bed, very disconsolate and sad from the afflicted exercise 
of my mind about religion, and I dreamed that night I saw 
a book of Hieroglyphicks of religion, of things to come in the 
Church or religious state ; and I dreamed that I took no de- 
light at all in them, and felt no closing in my mind with them, 
but turned from them greatly oppressed, and it being eve- 
ning, I went out from the company into a ground or yard 
sorrowing, and lifting up mine eyes to the heavens I cried 
out, Lord suffer me no more to fall in with any false way, 
but show me the ;ruth ; and I immediately thought the sky 
opened, and a bright light like fire fell upon my hand, which 
so frighted me, that I awaked and cried out, so that my 
daughter's servant that was in my chamber, came to the bed 
side to see what was the matter with me ; and I trembled a 
great time after it. 



Thus ii'ii ktiowit)!^ vvIkU to turn to, or rather believing 
llicre was noihing manifested since the Apostles days, that 
was true religion ; so I would often express, that 1 knew no- 
thing to l)e so certainly of God, as I could shed my blood in 
ilefence of it. 

One day, by accident, going through the city, from a coun- 
try house ; I could not pass through the crowd, (it being a 
day wherein the Lord Mayor'was sworn,) but was forced to 
go into a house till it was over; I being burthened with the 
vanity of their show, said to a professor that stood by me, 
•* what benefit have we by all this bloodshed, and Charles's 
being kept out of the nation?" He answered, none, that he 
knew of, savinij: the enjoyment of their religion. To which 
1 replied, that is a benefit to you who have a religion, to be 
protected in the exercise of it, but ii is none to me. Here I 
must mention a state I then knew, notwithstanding all my 
darkness and distress about religion; which was, in nothing 
to be carel'ul, but in all things to let my request be known in 
sighings and in groans; for that help I frequently had, was 
in the most confused dis(iuieted estate I ever knew; and trust 
in the Lord was so richly given me (in that day when I durst 
not own myself to have any religion I could call true,) as it 
is wonderful to take notice of: for if 1 were to take a servant, 
or remove to any place, or to do any outward thing that con- 
cerned my condition in this world ; I never contrived, hut re- 
tired to see what the day would bring forth and so waited; 
and as things were ollered to me closed with them, if I felt 
my heart answer it; and be it more or less of concern, I be- 
lieved things should be ollered to me which I should embrace, 
and so enquired after no accommodation of that kind ; but 
in all things else in a dissatisfied hurried condition as being 
neither night nor day with me, I could with anguish of spirit 
cry to the Lord. " ii" I may not come to thee as a child, be- 
cause I have not the spirit of sonshi[i, yet thou art my Crea- 
tor, as the beasts that have their food from thee: 1 cannot 
breathe or move as thy creature without thee, and help is 
only thee, and if thou art unaccessible in thy own glory, yet 
1 must have help where it is to be ha.l; thou only having pow- 
er over me to help me." Oh! the distress I felt in this time, 
having never dared to kneel down, as going to prayers, for 
years because 1 could not i;all God father in truth; and I durst 
not moc'k or be formal in the thing. Sometimes I should be 
melted into tears, and feel an inexpressiblj tenderness, but 
not knowing what it was from, anrl l)eiiig ready to judge all 
religion, 1 thought it was some inlluencc from the ])lancls 
that governed this body, an so I was sometimes hard, and 



9 

sometimes tender, as under such or such a planet, but durst 
not to own any thing in me being of God, or that I felt any 
influence of his spirit on my heart ; but 1 was hke the parched 
heath for rain, and like the hunted Hart for water; so great 
was my thirst after that, which I did not beheve was near, 
in this state my mind being ahnost constantly exercised about 
religion, I dreamed that 1 was sitting in a room, alone, re- 
tired and sad ; and as I was sitting, I heard a very loud, con- 
fused noise; some screeching and yelling, some roaring in a 
piteous doleful manner; others casting up their caps and hol- 
lowing in a way of triumph and joy. 1 listening what should 
be the matter, it was manifested to me, that Christ was come, 
and that this was the state people were in at his coming; 
some in joy, and some in extreme sorntw and amazement. 
I wailed in much dread : at last I found, that neither the joy 
nor the sorrow of this confused multitude was that which 
truly knew of his coming ; but it was the eflTects of some false 
rumor. So I abode in the room solitary, and found I was 
not to join with either, but be still and not affected with the 
thing at all, and not to go forth to enquire concerning it. Sit- 
ing thus a time, all was whist, and it was manifested to me it 
was so. I remaining cool and low in my mind abode in the 
place, ar)d when all this distracted noise was over, one came 
and spoke with a low voice to me, Christ is come indeed, 
and is in the next room, and the Bride the Lamb's wife: at 
which my heart secretly leaping in me, I was ready to get 
up to express my love to him and joy at his coming ; and was 
going into the next room, but a stop was put to me; — I was 
not to be hasty, but soberly wait, and then come coolly and 
softly into the next room, which 1 did, and stood trembling 
at the end of the room, which I found to be a spacious hall. 
I was joyed at the appearance, but durst not go near him, 
for it was said in me, stay and see whether he own thee and 
take thee to be such an one as thou lookest upon thyself to 
be so. I stood at a great distance, at the lower end of that 
great hall, and Christ at the upper end ; whom I saw in the 
appearance of a fresh lovely youth, clad in grey cloth (at 
which time I had not heard of a Quaker or their habit) very 
plain and neat, he was of a sweet, affable, courteous car- 
riage, and embraced several poor old simple people, whose 
appearance was very contemptible and mean, without wis- 
dom or beauty. I beholding this judged in myself, that tho*^ 
his appearance be young, yet his wisdom and discretion is 
great; that he can behold the hidden worth in those people, 
who to me seem so mean, so unlovely, old and simple: at 
las' he beckoned to me to come to him, of which I was very 

2 



10 

glad; but came lowly and ircmhling, and solid in great 
weighlinoss and dread. Alter a little time it \va;^ said, "The 
Lamb's wife is come. At vviiich time I beheld a beantiiul 
young virgin, slender made and grave, in plain garments 
becoming and graceful, and her image was fully answering 
his, as a brother and sister. After I had beheld this and 
joyed in it as far as I durst, I spake to Thomas Zachary, 
(whom I then knew a seeker af'er the Lord, though tossed 
as myself in the many ways, yet pressing after the life.) 
seeing Christ is indeed conie and iew know it ; and that those 
who in the confusion mourned and rejoiced knew it not, but 
("hrist is hid from them. Let us take the king's house at 
Greenwich, and let us dwell with (^hrist, and cnjo^ him from 
those who look for him in that, in which they cannot find 
him ; or to this purpose, k^cveral years alter this I had 
another dream. 

In tiiis condition that I mentioned t)f iny wearied seeking 
and not finding, 1 married my dear husb'ind Isaac Penington. 
My love was drawn to him because I found he saw the deceit 
of all notions, and lay as one that refused to be comforted by 
any appearance of religion, until he came to his tem[)le who 
is truth and no lie. All things that had the appearance of 
religion were very manifest to him, so that he was sick and 
weary of all that a[)peared, and in this my heart cleft to hirn, 
and a desire was in me to be serviceable to him in this his 
desolate condition, for he was alone and misprable in this 
world ; and I gave up much to be a companion to hinj in 
this his sulfering. But, Oh the groans and cries in secret that 
was in me, that I might be visiled by the Lord with the 
knowledtje of his way, and that my foot was but set in the 
way before I went hence, though I might never walk in it 
to my joy and peace, but that I might know myself in the 
way or turned to it. Althoui:;h all my time was spent in 
SDrrow or exercise, I resolved in my heart I would never go 
back to those things I liad left, as having discovered death 
and darknt;ss to be there: but would be without a religion 
till the Lord manifestly taught me one. Many times by my- 
self I should reason thus, whv should 1 not know the way of 
life? For if the Lord should give me all the world it would 
not satisfy me. Nay I would cry out. I am miserable with 
it all, it is to be in that w hich I have had a sense is to be had 
that I desii-e and can only be satisfied with. In this state I 
heard of a new people called (Quakers, but I resolved I would 
not encjuire after them nor what they held ; and for a year 
or more after I heard of them in the north I heard nothing 
of their wav, save that they used thee and thou, and I saw 



n 

a book of plain language wrote by George Fox, as I re^ 
member, which I counted very ridiculous, and so minded 
them not, but scofled at them in my mind. Some that I knew 
formerly, in those things where 1 was, mentioned to me, that 
they had heard the Quakers, but they were in the vain ap- 
parel and customs for which 1 upbraided them, and thought 
them very deceitful and slighted the hearing of them, and 
resolved I would not go to hear them preach, 1 despised 
them in my mind, yet often had a desire (if I could go to 
their meetings unknown,) to go and be there when they 
prayed, for 1 was weary of doctrines; but 1 did believe if f 
was with them when they prayed 1 could teel whether they 
were of the Lord or not; but I put this by, thinking I could 
not go unknown, and if known I thought 1 should be reported 
to go amongst the Quakers, who I had no desire to enquire 
after or understand iheir principles. But one day, as my 
husband and I were w alking in a park, a man that had been 
a little time at the Quakers' meetings spied us, (as he rode 
by.) in our gay vain apparel, and he cried out to us of our 
pride and such like, at which I scofied and said, he was a 
public preacher, indeed, that preaclied in the highways. He 
came back again, having as he said a luve for my husband, 
seeing grace in his looks; so he drew to the pales and spake 
of the light and grace which had appeared to all men. My 
husband and he engaged in discourse, and afterwards he 
was invited in by the man of the house. He was but young, 
and percteived my husband was too hard for him in the 
fleshly wisdom, said he would bring a man next day which 
should answer all his questions or objections, which (ns I af- 
terwards understood) was George Fox. He came again the 
next day, and left word that the friend he intended could not 
come, but some otlier would be with us about the second 
hour, at which time did come up to the house, Thomas 
Curtis and William Simpson. My mind was somewhat af- 
fected with the man who had discoursed the night before, 
and though I judged him weak in managing what he pre- 
tended to, yet many Scriptures he mentioned stuck with me 
and weighty; and what I was out of the practice of, also 
many things disowned by the Scriptures which I was in the 
vanity of practising, and these things made me very serious 
and soberly inclined to hear what they had to say; and their 
solid and weighty carriage struck a dread over me, for they 
came in the authority and power of the Lord to visit us, and 
the Lord was with them, and we were all in the room sen- 
sible at that time of the Lord's power manifested in them. 
Thomas Curtis repeated the Scripture that struck me out of 



13 

all enquiries or objections. " He that will know my doctrines 
must do tny commands." Immediately it arose ni me, if 1 
would i\now whelher that was truth wliich tlicy liaei spoke, 
I must do what 1 knew to be the Lord's will; and uijal was 
contrary thereto in me was set before me as to be removed, 
and join in the obedience of what was reciuired before I was 
in a capacity to receive or discover what llie\ laid down for 
their principles. This wrought mightily with me, and my in- 
clinations to vain things seemed more strong than ever, and 
things 1 thought I had slighted much seemed to have a 
stronger power over me than ever 1 imagmed. . . . terrible 
was the Lord over the evil inclinations in me. This made me 
continually night and day to cry out; and when it did but cease 
a little,! then mourned for fear I should be reconciled to things 
which I felt under judgment such a detestation oi. I then 
cried out, that 1 might not be left in a state secure or quiet till 
the evil was wrouglit out many times. I have said in my- 
self, ye will not come to me that ye may have life ; it is true 
I am undone if I come not to thee O Lord, but I will not. 
come, for I must leave that which cleaveth close to to me. I 
cannot part with it, not that 1 was necessitated, but that I 
chose and consented to my state, according to this saying, of 
Christ was continually before me; I justified the irulh of 
that saying and the justice of the Lord in casting me ofl' and 
not giving me life, ibr that I saw and would not come from 
my beloved lusts to him for life. Upon every pain I fell in 
this state (which was more than I could well bear,) 1 still 
had this sense in me, that the wealth of God was more, and 
then I should cry out in great bitterness. A little time afier 
1 had heard Friends, it was said in me (one night upon n.y 
bed,) be not hasty to join wuh these jieople called Quakers. 
I never had peace or quiet from a sore exercise in my mind 
for many months, till I was by a stroke of the Lord's judg- 
ments brought ofl' all these things, which I found the lijjrht to 
manifest deceit in; bondage, vanity and the spirit of the world. 
And giving up to be a fool, a scorn, and to take up the cross 
to my honour and reputation in the world, which cost me 
many tears and nights' watching, and doleful days; not all 
that time ever disputing (nay not so much as in my mind,) 
against the doctrine, but I was exercised against taking up 
the cross to the language and fashions, customs, titles, ho- 
nours and esteem in the world, and the place and rank I 
stood outwardly in; and my relations made it very hard; 
but as I gave up out of reasoning or consulting how to pro- 
vide for the flesh, I received strength and so went to the 
meetings of those people. I never intended to have meddled 



18 

with, and found them truly of the Lord, and my heart owned 
them and honoured them, I longed to be one of their number, 
and minded not the trouble, but judged it to be worth the 
rost and pains, if I came to witness such a change as I saw 
in them, and such power over their corruptions, they who 
were of the world and had fellows[iip with it came to turn 
from it. In taking up the cross, I received strength against 
many things that i once thought it not possible to deny; but 
many tears did I shed and great bitterness of soul did 1 
know before this, and have sometimes cried out, 1 shall one 
day fall by the overpowering ol the enemy ; but oh ! the joy 
that filled my soul ai the first meeting in our then habitation of 
Chajfont. I have a fresh remembrance of it, in the sense 
that the Lord had given me to live to worship him in that 
which was undoubtedly his own; and that I need put no stop 
to my spirit in it but swim in the life, and give up my whole 
strength to that which melted me and overcame me in that 
day. Oh ! for long had 1 desired to worship in the full as- 
surance of acceptation, and lift up my hands without doubting, 
which thing I witnessed that day ; and to the Lord in spirit in 
that assembly 1 acknowledged the greatness and wonder- 
fulness of that rich mercy to be able to say, this is it 1 have 
longed for and waited, though I feared I never should have 
seen, which the Lord owned and accepted and blessed in as- 
sembling together. Many trials have I been exercised with 
since, but all which came by the Lord's ordering strength- 
ened my life in him and hurt me not But my mind running 
out into prejudice against some Friends did sorely hurt me, 
but after a time of deep and unknown sorrow the Lord re- 
moved it, and gave me a clearness in his sight and love and 
acceptance with his beloved ones. The Lord hath many a 
time refreshed my soul in his presence, and gave me an as- 
surance that I knew that estate in which he will never leave 
nor suffer me to be drawn from him. Though infirmities 
beset me, yet my heart cleaveth to the Lord in the ever- 
lasting bond that can never be broken, and in his .strength 
do I see those infirmities, ami bemoan myself and feel that 
faith in him which gives victory, and keeps low in the sense 
of that weakness, and quickens in me a lively hope of seeing 
satan trod underfoot. By the grace that is sufficient J feel 
and know where my strength lieth, and when I have slipped 
in word or thought, I know my advocate and have recourse 
to him, and feel pardon healing and a going on to overcome. 
Also a watching against that which easily besets me; and 
1 do believe the enemy could not prevail, but that he is suf- 
fered to prove me that i might have my dependance on the 



14 

Lord, and be kept on the watch continually, and know the 
Lord only can make war with this dragon: and so by dis- 
covering my weakness I might be tender ot those wtio are 
tempted, and watch and pray least I also be tempted. Sweet 
is this state thro' love, for in it I receive my daily bread, and 
have that I have continually given forth from the Lord, and 
live not but as he breatheth the breath of life upon me every 
moment. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

This after I had written it laid by me a considerable time, 
it came into my mind one day to leave it with Elizabeth 
Walmsly to keep till 1 was dead, and then for her to shew it 
to such as had a love for me. So one day I appointed her 
to meet me at John Mannock's in Giles Chalfont, and there 
I told her this and read it to her, desiring her to write it out 
if she could read it, and I would leave it with her. This 
was in the year 1668 that I proposed it to her, but it after- 
wards went out of my mind, now it is 1671 almost 72, in 
which I lighted of it amongst my writings, nnd reading it 
found it to be a true brief account of passages from my child- 
hood till the time it was written. I am now willing to have 
it written out fair for my children and some peculiar Friends, 
who know and feel me in that which witncsseth a hungering 
and thirsting after, and many li'nes being livingly satisfied 
in God my life. 

Mary Peningtoiv. 

I here mention a dream 1 had, at Wormingshurst, be- 
tween twenty and thirty years after that mentioned in page 
7, which I put here, because at the close of this dream I 
dreamt that I related part of the foregoing dream, as I shall 
express hereafter. Being at VV^ormingshurst in Sussex, at 
mv son Penn's, the 30th of the 7th month (the seventh night 
of the week,) being in bed and asleep, I dreamt I was with 
two more in an upper room (who tlie persons were is not 
perfectly remembered by me.) 1 looking towards the window, 
saw the sky very dismal and black, which was dreadful to 
me and the others who beheld it with me, but continuing cool 
and lowly in our spirits to see what would follow, the sky 
grew thinner and began to clear; not by rain descending in 
an usual way, but by < ne great vent of water out of the 
midst of those thick clouds, like a great w-ater-spout, which 
poured water and cleared the clouds. Soon after the thick 
clouds seemed to be driven away, like as if they were divided 
on heaps and a great clearness in tJie midst, out of which 



15 

clearing was a very bright head, breast and arms, (the com- 
plete upper part ot a man) very comely, as I have seen a 
picture drawn to represent an angel's form in; he had in his. 
hand a long green bough, (not so green as a laurel, but of a 
sea or willow green) like as they draw a palm. Thip bough 
or palm was held over his head ; this was such a significa- 
tion to us of good, that we both in voice and action made 
acclamation of joy, and uttered forth through fullness of joy 
undistinct sounds like being overcome with that greatness of 
our sense, and could not send forth melody but a sound like 
ah, ah, ah, ah ! in an astonished manner, spreading our 
hands and going about the room svs^iftly with a constant note 
of admiration and joy, signifying by our manner we were 
ready to burst wilh sense, and our tongues and voice not 
able to deliver us of what we were big with. After a little 
time appeared lower in the element, nearer the earth, in an 
oval like, transparent glass, a man and a woman, not in re- 
semblance but real persons; the man with a greater majesty 
and sweetness than ever I saw any, brown hair, black shin- 
ing eyes, fresh rudiiy complexion, quick, affable and courteous, 
piercing, dominion in his countenance, yet great gentleness 
and kindness. The woman resembling him in favour and 
complexion, but in a tendur bushful appearance, \et quick 
looked. At the sight of these persons we (not in a disturbed 
confused manner but in a clear sense, joy and reverence of 
majesty and dnminion,) fell on our faces and in a solemn 
manner in gesture and voice cried, glory! glory! glory! 
glory! at which the man in our sight .■isceridcd, an I the 
woman came down to us and in i^reat sweetness and gravitv 
spake to us; the distinct words I have forgotten, but this I 
had a sense of; that we should not be formal or fall out. 
So she passed by us, and wc looked one on another after a 
melted serious manner, and I spake to thein thus: This is a 
vision to signify to us some great matter and glorious ap- 
pearance, more glorious than the Quakers at their just com- 
ing forth and told them I had a distinct vision and sight of 
that state in a dream before ever I heard of a Quaker, but it 
was in a more simple plain manner than this. It appeared 
to me this was more quick and more majestic, for I then 
saw Christ a fresh, sweet, innocent youth, clad in light grey, 
neat but plain, and so likewise was the bride the Lamb's 
wife in the same mnnner ; but there was deep wisdom under 
this appearance, that I was forced then to confess that there 
was a deep discerning in the youth, though his appearance 
was youthful, tender and courteous, &.c. in that I did find 
him to own such and embrace them, that I could not see any 



16 

aoccptable thing in, as being no ways promising to be such 
as ('hrisl would own being old and poor, and contemptible 
women. But now said I the complexion and garb altered, 
and great sweetness and majesty is together. The liabit not 
ot gay superfluous things, but a neat acceptable dress, a free- 
dom of look and carriage, with that which we call an inno- 
cent smartness, and brisk and courteous. The form of their 
faces was somewhat long, their cloathes without any garnish, 
neat and (as we used to say,) spruce. The woman lively 
and familiar, with an authority in her look. 

After we had received the testimony of God's faithful ser- 
vants to the light and grace in the heart, we became obedient 
to the heavenly voice and received his truth in love; and 
took up the cross to the customs, language, friendships, titles 
and honours of the world; and endured despinings, re- 
proaches, cruel mofkings and scornings from relations, ac- 
quaintance, neighbours and servants, those of our own rank 
and those below us, and became a by word and a wagging 
o| the head, and accounting us to be bewitched, mad and 
fools, and such like; being stoned and abused in towns 
where we went, and at meetings in several places, and suf- 
fering imprisonment. This not being enough to try us, we 
were also tried with the loss of our estate, injuiy from rela- 
tions in witholding our due, and suing us unrighteously for 
our own; tenants wronging us from what the law gave, put- 
ing tis into the Chancery because we could not swear; rela- 
tions taking that course to defeat me of my land; we were 
|)ut out of dwelling-house in an injurious unrighteous manner. 

Thus we were stripped of my husband's estate and wronged 
of a great part of mine. After this we were tossed up and 
down, from place to place, to our great weariness and charge. 
We had no place to abide in in this country near to meet- 
ings, which gathered at our house at Chalfont, but we were 
pressed in our spirits to stay amongst them if any place 
could be found, with any conveniency, though but ordinarily 
decent. We sought in many places within the compass of 
four or five miles from this meeting but could find none; but 
we had such a sense of its being our place that we had not 
freedom to settle anv where else, so boarded at Waliham 
Abbey for a summer for our children's accommodation ot 
the school there; and thought to leave our friends to provide 
or enquire for us, and at our return to have been with some 
friends in the winter, so have seen for some place in the 
summer. We in all the time of seeking a place, did never 
enter into the thoughts of buying any thing to settle ourselves 
in. Nay we rather endeavoured to have no concern in our 



17 

habitation but room for our family and no land, we frequently 
desired a disentangled state. 1 seeing no provision like to 
be for us in the country near, those people told my husband 
1 should not be willing to go from them into any other place 
except our own estate in Kent; which he liked not to do, ex- 
cepting against the air and dirtiness of the place, this put me 
upon a great strait. I could not bear to leave this people 
who we had been instrumeiilal to in their gathering to the 
truth, and had known our sufierings in our estate and com- 
passionated us, and we had sufiered together, and been com- 
forted together, unless we went to our estate in Kent. We 
also had many reasons in regard to our own estate not to go 
amongst strangers, the people and neighbourhood* (of the 
world.) had a sense of our former condition of fullness, and 
so were compassionate ot" us, for we being in their sight so 
stripped, and expected no great things of us to answer our 
rank in the world, but rather wondered we were not sunk, 
but were able to live decently and pny every one their own, 
submitting to mean things which (tur condition occasioned 
was honourable before them, which strangers would have 
despised, which would liave been uneasy to us. 

Whereas the other temper amongst our acquaintance and 
countrymen helped us the easier to bear meanness and a 
great deal of straitness more than we had ever known, being 
born to and having lived in great plenty. Thus we were ex- 
ercised, and one day when we were near going to Waltham 
Abbey, R. T. coming to see us, and bewailing that we were 
going out of the country and had no place near them to 
return to. said: "Why will ye not buy some little place 
near us?" I refused this with great neglect, saying our 
condition would not ad nut of such a thing, for we had not 
an hundred pound besides our rents, and that we must sell 
some of mine so to do. He told me he had an uncle who 
would sell a place of about thirty [lounds per year, which 
stood near the meeting and was a healthy place; and the 
house might be trimmed and made habitable. My husband 
was not there at that time; soon after H. B. came and I 
told them what R. T. had proposed, who seemed to en- 
courage the thing ; said he had heard that there were some 
rooms in the house that might serve. That night Thomas 
EUwood came out of Kent, and told me he had much to do 
come back and not sell my farms at West Bur. I laid these 
things together and said — I think this must be our way ; if 
we can sell West Bur to buy this that R. T. has offered, and' 

* The people of other societies in their neighbourhood. 
3 



18 

with the overplus of the money put the house in a condrtion 
to receive us; tor we saw noway of dwelling in the country 
unless we took this way. Next day I took Ann Bull with 
me, and went on foot to Woodside, to John Humphries' 
house, to view it and its situation; 1 came in bv Hill's lane, 
throuij^h the orchard. It looked so ruinously and unlike to be 
trimmed up for us, that I did not go into the house; so it 
fjuite fell till we were going away, and v. ere disappointed of 
a house at Beconsfield which my husband was in treaty 
about. Upon this we pressed again to see the house, which 
1 did. T. E. and H. B. going with me, my husband having 
said he left it to me. !So 1 went into the house and they 
viewed the grounds, and in half an hour's time there I had 
the form of the thing in my mind, what to sell and what to 
pull down, and what to add, and cast it would be done wiiii 
the overplus of the money — il'.at £.50 a year sold to buy £30 
would be. So I gave up to have them treat lor it; the very 
day we went away we walked to Chalfont to take away my 
son Penn's coach ; there had some words with T. E. and II. 
B. of our going out of the country, and of their making en- 
quiry of things and to let us knov/ at VValtham, which they 
did; and sent us word the title was clear, but they judged 
it £50 too dear. When I received this message I had my 
mind much to the Lord in this thing; that if it were the 
place he gave us liberty to be in, he would order it for us ; 
and I had requested of my husband that seeing he had lost all, 
and the ("hildren hnd no provision but my estate, and that 
we v/ere so tossed ahou! and had no dwelling place for our- 
selves nor our children, I might build some little thing for 
them. ]\Iy husband was averse to building, but I weighing 
that could I part with my land and buy a place with the 
money, and put it in condition for us and them, and he not 
be troubled with the building; that it should be made over to 
Friends for me ai;d the children; he considering the estate 
was mine and that he ha J lost all his and brought that suffer- 
ms upon me, was willing I should do what I w^ould. and 
added he took deliaht 1 should be answered in this thinsr, 
thf>ugh it was contrary to his temper either to have a house 
or to build. So I sent word to the Friends that they should 
conclude for it ; that I did not matter £oO, if they thought 
it for our own turn in other respects; so it went on. I was 
often in prayers and tc^ars that 1 might lie preserved from 
entanglements and cumber, and that it might be such an ha- 
bitation as would manifest the Lord was again restoring us, 
and had a rej^nrd to iis. When it v.as bought I went Indus- 
triouslv and chee;ful about the business, though I saw many 



unusual incumbrances present themselves before n)« in which 
I still cried to the Lord thai I might go through in his fear, 
and not cumber or darken my mind. Wc met with a great 
interruption after we had concluded for it — the woman being 
advised to make a piey upon us, by an unreasonable demand 
for her consent. 1 earnestly desired of the Lord to make 
wa\ for us to get clear of the matter, though with great loss 
if we should run into entanglements in the management of 
it; and 1 besought Thomas Ellwood to get oH^froni the bar- 
gain, the dread of running into debt was heavy upon me, but 
1 got over it, and I went on to plant and to make provision 
for building. 

But I was (by the survivor*) put out of my own way, and 
put upon rearing from the ground a new part, which my 
husband falling in with him I could not avoid; but this brought 
great trouble upon me, for 1 did not see my way as before, 
but felt great pain that I could not see the end, having slept 
from my own proposal, and not knowing how to compass 
this charge, I took no pleasure in doing any thing about it. 
I fell ill and could not look after it, and great was my exer- 
cise ; one while fearing the Lord did not approve of this; 
another while saying within myself, I did not seek great 
things nor vain glory in a fine habitation ; for as I cast it at 
first, and did not intend to do more it would have been very 
ordinary. I had, after many close exercises and earnest 
prayers, come to a clearness that I had an honest intent and 
the expense was undiscerned by me; 1 then felt a still acting 
out of care or disquiet, ani the building was managed by me 
rather in delight (through an answer of my inclining to build 
being right,-|-) than a disiinguishing care. Part of the house 
Jailing down, by the new casting of it, wrought in me a care 
how 1 should compass it. In the falling I was most remark- 
ably preserved. After a lime I felt an innocent proceeding 
rise in my mind, and I went on very cheerfully never looking 
out, and w hen there was occasion for money to be paid J 
still had money, having contracted my family great part of 
inv rents came in towards the building, as also the selling of 
ii|(i hoiKsesand hark and several other things, ! had pleasure 
instead of pain in laying out my money. Indeed my mind 
was so daily to the Lord in this affair, and so continually 
provided with money that i often and somictimes said, that 
if I had lii'ed in the time when building of houses for the 
service of ihe Lord was accepted and blessed, I could not 
have had a sweeter, stiller or pleasanter time. I set all things 

* I suppose supervieor or surve yor. 

t Tliroiigh an apsuranoe iliat my undertnkinj: to build was right. 



20 , 

in order in u morning w lien 1 went in meetings, and so left 
them till I returned, rarely finding them so much as rise in 
my mind when going in and when at meetings; and this 
kept my mind very sv\eet and savt)ry. tor I had nothing in 
all this w hich dis(|uieted me, having nt) tnrther care than that 
nothing was wasted; but 1 jjerceived by my eye and not by 
disquieting care, and so no cause ot fretting or anger admin- 
istered to me. I lay down sweetly and very pleasantly, 
awaked in a sweet sense, etTiployed all day but had no labour 
in my mind, whiidi seasoned me and kept me pleasant and in 
health; and when I had compassed all this in less than fiur 
years, I was free to leave the account with my children. J 
could have C(»mpassed it in much less time, but then 1 should 
have been sireigfitened for money, which doing it by degrees 
it stole in undiscerne(l in point of charge: for know all is 
finished except the wash-hoiisc ])art. and I have taken up 
but £100 to discharge this building and planting with : and 
during this lime we have; not omitted being helpful in giving 
or lending in our places. 

Now the liord hath seen good to make me a widow, and 
leave me in a desolate condition as to my guide and com- 
panion ; but he hath mercilully disentanslcd me, and I am in 
a very easy state as to my outward being. 1 have often 
desired of the f^ord to make way for my waiting on him 
without distraction. Living a free life out of cumber, I most 
thankfully and iiumbly in a deep sense of his gracious and 
kind dealings receive the disposing of my lands from him; 
and now through the kindness of the T^ord, I have cleared 
great part ol the mortgage, and paid most of my bond debts, 
and I can compass very easily the gmund in my hands. In 
this 4th month 1G80, I have maHe my will, and disposed of 
my estate, and have no considerable debt on it, and leave a 
handsome provision for J. P., M. P. and the younger one.<, 
to fit them for trades in a decent railing, and have left pro- 
vision for my debts and leiracieg. 

I call it a comely provision, considering that they are able 
to be provided out of my lands of inheritance, having 
nothing of their fathei's to provide for them. I am mourn- 
ing for the loss of mv worthy companion, and exercised 
with the great sickness and weakness of my children ; but. 
in regard to my outward condition and habitation, to my 
heart's content. No great family to cumber me, am private 
and have time to apply my heart to wisdom in the number- 
ing of my days (believing them to be but few,) and in a clear 
manner, stand rcadv to die. In reference to my outward 
affairs, having set my hcnse in order, and in that respect to 



21 

have nothing to do but to die, and am waiting sensible of 
death; and have no desire after ]\k, and feel a satisfaction 
that I leave my children in an orderly way, who are now in 
less need of me than when things were less compassed and 
settled. I feel that death is the king of fears, and that my 
strength to triumph over him must be given me; and at the 
very season when the needful time is ; that my sight to-day 
beyond the grave will not help me against the sting ol death 
when it cometh, but the l^ord must help and stand by me, 
nnd resist that evil one who is busy when the tabernacle is 
dissolving ; his work being ;il an end when the earthly ve^^sel 
is laid down. 

Oh I Lord what quiet, safety or ease is in any state but 
in feeling thy living power, all is in this and nothing but 
amazement, sorrow, anguish distress, grief, perplexity, woe, 
misery, what not, out of it. Oh ! let me be kept by that 
power, and in it walk with God. in his pure fear; and I matter 
not how low, how unseen in this world, nor how little friend- 
ship, nor any pleasant thing I h;ue in the world ; for I have 
found it to be sufficient for every good word and work and 
state, when stripped of every pleasant picture and acceptable 
and helpful thing. Oh I Lord, thou knowest what I have yet 
to go through in this world, bin my hope is in thy mercy to 
guide and support me, and then I need not be doubtful nor in 
concern what is to come upon me. 

This far I writ before I went to Edmonton, which was 
in the 6lh mo. 1680. And as if I were to go thither on pur- 
pose to put all the foregoing things in practice : and to be 
proved by the Lord, according to what I have before written; 
and to be exercised by him in all things, that were in my 
view, when I set my house in order, as if 1 were to return 
no more, in all kinds of particulars, it pleased the Lord, in 
a week's lime after my coming there, to visit me with a vio- 
lent burning fever ; beyond what I ever had felt smce 1 was 
born. Indeed it was very tedious, insomuch, that I made my 
moan in these doleful words: — "Distress, distress," feeling 
these words comprehended, sickness and uneasiness, want 
of rest through vapours, ill ncroinmndanons in the place, it 
being a school, and so unquiet and liitle attendance to be 
had ; and these things bein-j all up<in me, from my own 
home, where I might have needed nothing. This was ac- 
companied with many aggravations; rs my two younger 
children lying in the same room, not well ; one of them in 
the bed with me; my elder children, many miles distance 
from me, who knew nothing of my condition, when most 
desperate. I was looked upon by most persons as not likely 



2*2 

to recover, especially by the physician. 1 liad scarce liine 
in all this illness, to have took one quarter ot an hour towards 
the settling of" my afiUirs, if they had been then to do; but 
such was the eminent kindness and mercy of the Lord to me, 
as to put it into my heart to consider, that it may be, I might 
never return home again; as it was with my dear husband, 
and so that I might wait on tfie l^ord in my sickness, and 
lay down this body without distraction in outward concerns. 
"^iMiese memorable dealings of the Lord with me, I now re- 
count th^ 3d day of the 26 mo. 1G81. in a thankful humble 
sense of his mercy; being in my bed. unrcfovered, of that 
forementioned illness; being eight months since, and now it 
is upon my heart in the holy fear of the Lord to declare to 
you my dear children, of what great service it was to me. 
in my sickness, that I had nothing to do but to die when tiie 
Lord visited me. The Lord was pleased to assure me 1 
should not go down into the pit with the wicked ; but should 
have a mansion, according to his good ] loasure, in his holy 
habitation ; through the knowledge of which I was left in a 
quiet state, out ot the feelings of the sting of death; not 
having the least desire to live; though I did not witness any 
measure of triutnph and joy; vet I could often say it is 
enough, in that I am still, and have not a thought day nor 
night of any thing that is to be done, in j)reparation to my 
going hence. But after fourteen days illness at Edmonton, 
iny fever greatly abated, and in a month's time came from 
thence to i^ondon in some degree of strength. After seven 
weeks time (here, the Lord brought me home again to my 
own house. I was smitten that night with sickness, of which 
I remain weak and low in the flesh, to this day, in which 
mourning it springs in mv heart to express something of the 
dealings of the Lord with me in the present exercise of sick- 
ness. On the 27th of the 4th month, (in the morning) as I 
was waiting on the Lord with some of my family, I found 
an inclining in my niind to mention the continuance of my 
illness, to this day; which Irom the time of my being first 
visited. ;is before wants not many v.eeks of a year; in all 
which time such was the goodness of the Lord to me, that 
as it was said of Job, "in all this he sinned not nor charged 
God foolishly," so may 1 say (through the presence of his 
power with me, in all this time I have not felt a murmuring 
complaining mind, but this has been my constant frame. It is 
well I have no grievous thing to undergo, excepting these 
1 \\e sore fits of the stone which have been full of anguish and 
misery. And the Lord hath graciously stopped my desiresafter 
every pleasant thing; and as I have not been uneasy in this 



23 

long corifiiicnient, for tde most pari 1o my bed, and this pre- 
sent d;iv to my chamber, where 1 have had very Httle com- 
fort, through sleep or pleasantness of food, or any thing of 
that kind ; nay, further, 1 have not found in my heart to aak 
of the Lord to be restored to my former health and strength, 
that I might have the pleasantness of my natural sleep; nor 
eating my food vvitli acceptation to my palate, (not fearing 
pains nor ilistempers,) nor to walk about the house upon my 
occasions ; nor to go abroad in the air, to take a view of the 
beautiiul creation. But all that I have desired, during this 
long exercise, in reference to my present condition, hath 
been ease in these late fits of the stone. For this I have 
earnestly cried to the Lord, to help me and give me such 
directions for means of help, or minister help unto me, that 
I might have my pain removed, saving in these fits. I have 
not asked any thing of the Lord concerning life or health ; 
but rather have felt a pleasantness in being barred from that 
which is acceptable to all my senses ; because therein I have 
been near to the Lord. 1 have waited upon him with less 
distraction than in my health, and have many times said 
within my self,Oh, this is very sweet and easy. He makes 
my bed in my sickness and holds my eyes waking to con- 
verse with him. Death hath been many times before me; 
in which 1 have rather embraced it than shrunk from it; 
but have for the most part found a kind of yielding in my spirit 
to die. Like as it was said, he yielded up the ghost. I have 
all my days had a great sense of death, (as I may say,) till 
I came to be settled in the truth, and been in subjection to 
the fear of it ; but now the fear of death, that is, the state 
after death, is at present removed. But there remaineth still 
a deep sense of the passage; how strait, hard and difficult it 
is ; and many times to those on whom the second death hath 
no power. As it was with the Lord Jesus C'hrist, who felt 
such a season as made him cry out, " My God [ my God 
■why hast thou forsaken me?" As also the instance of my cer- 
tainly blessed husband, who^e mind was constantly with the 
Lord in his sickness. Yet when the last breath was breathing 
out his groans were dreadful. I may call them roarings, as 
they seemed to me, through the disquiet of his soul at that 
moment. Indeed this passage of his has so deeply affected 
me. that I have often since said within me: If it be thus 
With the green tree, what shall it be lo me who am to him a 
dry tree? 

A letter from me to my dear grand child Springeft Penn,^ 
written about the year 1680, and left to be delivered to him 
after my decease. 



24 

Dear Child, 

Thou beaiiijg ihe nuiiiu ol iliy worthy grand-father 
Spriiigetl, 1 felt one day the thing I desired was answered, 
which was the keeping up his name and meinury not in the 
vain way of the world, who preserve their name for the 
glory of a I'aniily ; but in leganJ that he left no son, iiis name 
might not be forgotten. He dying before thy mother was 
born; thou couldst not have the opportunity of her putting 
thee in remembrance ol' him ; so 1 am inclined to make men- 
tion of this good man to thee, that ihou mayesl preserve the 
memory of this just one in thy mind, and have for a pattern 
lor thee ; that imitating him and following him, as he followed 
C/hrist, ihou mayest continue his name in the family, not only 
by being called after him, but more specially by walking in 
his footsteps and bearing his image, and partaking of his re- 
nown ; by being the virtuous otispring of this truly great 
man. Well, dear child. I will give thee some account of 
him Thy dear mother's father was of religious parents ; 
his I'atlier (thy great grand-father,) though a lawyer, was re- 
ligious and strict, as 1 have heard of him, in those things, 
wherein the administration of that time consisted. Zealous 
against Popery; scrupled putting his money to use, and was 
of a sober conversatioii ; and in the exercise of what (in that 
dim day-light,) was accounted holy duties, he was much in 
prayer, though in a form reading scripture by himself, and 
in his familv, exercised much, on such like things on that 
dyy which they then accounted their Sabbath. He died of 
consumption, leaving lliv great grand-mother with two sons, 
and with child ol a daughter. She was married to him 
about three years, and left a widow about 22 or 23. She 
was an excellant woman; and had a great regard to the 
well being of her children, both in the inward and outward 
condition; and that she might the belter bring up her children 
lived a retired life, refused marriage, though fretjuently well 
ofiered, as I have heard her say. She suHered pretty hard 
things from his two brothers, Sir Thomas Springelt and a bro- 
ther-in-law, who were his executors, through their jealousy, 
that she being so very young a widow would marry. They 
refused her the education of her children, and |)ut her upon 
suing for it, which she obtained with charges, and some 
years suit. She lived a virtuous life, constant in morning 
and evening prayer by herself, and often with her children; 
causing them to repeat what they remembered of sermons 
and scriptures. 

I lived in the house with her from nine years of age, till 
after I was married to her son; and after he died she came 



and lived with me, and died at my house. In all which 
lime, 1 never, as I remember, heard her say an immodest or 
indecent word, or saw her do an evil action. She spent her 
time very ingeniously, and in a bountiful manner bestowed 
great part of her jointure yearly upon the poor, and in phy- 
sick and surgery. She had about twelve score pounds a 
year jointure, and with it she kept a brace of geldings, a 
man and a maid. She boarded at her only brother's Sir 
Edward Patridge ; she kept several poor women, con- 
stantly employed simpling for lier in the summer, and in 
the winter procuring such things as she liad use of in 
physick and surgery, and for eyes; she having eminent 
judgment in all three and admirable success, which made 
her famous and sought to, out of several countries by 
the greatest persons, and by the low ones. She was 
daily employing her servants in making oils, salves, bal- 
sams, drawing of spirits, distilling of waters, making of 
syrups and conserves of many kinds, with purges, pills 
and lozenges. She was so rare in taking off cataracts and 
spots in eyes, that Stepkins the great occulist, sent many 
to her house where there was difficulty of cure, and he could 
not attend or spare so much time as could compass it. She 
cured in mv knowledge many burns and desperate cuts, also 
dangerous sores that have come by thorns; likewise broken 
limbs ; many of the king's evil, taking out several bones ; one 
burn I in an especial manner remember — a child's head was 
so burnt, that its skull was like a coal; rhe brought it to have 
skin and hair, and invented a thin pan of beaten silver co- 
vered with a bladder, to preserve the head in case of a knock 
or fall. She frequently helped in consumptions, (beyond the 
skill of doctors to help,) through her diligence and care in 
the villages about her, lodged severr.l patients that came 
some hundreds of miles for cure, and lay there sometimes a 
quarter of a year from their families. She has had twenty 
persons in a morning, (men, women and children,) to dress 
their wounds, apply physick to and to cure of sore eyes. I 
have heard her say she spent half her revenue in making 
medicines which she needed for these cures, and never re- 
ceived presents of much value, only thus she would do — if 
the patients were able and needed not what she had in the 
*house, she gave them a note of what things they should buy, 
and she made their medicines. She was greatly beloved and 
honoured for this: her man spent iireat part of his lime in 
writing directions and fitting of salves and medicines. In 
the place where she dwelt, she was (in her latter lime,) once 
called a Puritan in her religion, and afterwards an Indepen- 
dent; had an Independent minister in her house, and gave 



«8 

liberty to pcoiile to come twice a week to her house to hear 
him preac;!, ^?he constantly set apart the seventh day about 
3 or 4 o'clock in the afternoon, for her f:\nii;y to leave all 
their occasions, and this minister preached and prayed with 
lhe;n for a preparation for lo-niorrovv. She was a most 
lender and alibctionate mother to thy grand-father, and al- 
ways shewed s;real kindness to me; chose me for his wife, 
and greatly delighted in fiis love to me; indeed she v/as very 
honourable in counselling her son not to marry for an estate; 
and put by many great offers, of persons with thousands 
urging him to consider what would make him happy in his 
qhoice. She proposed my marriage to him, because we 
were bred together from children ; I nine years old and he 
tvvelve and a half, when we came to Ifve togelher. She 
would discourse to him on this wise, that she knew me and 
we were hnown to one another, and said, she chose me for 
his wife. If I had no portion (because of these thmg.^,) and 
our equality in outward condition and years. She lived to 
see thy mother three or four years old, and was very alTec- 
tionate to her, and took great delight to see her wisdom. 

Now to come to thy grand-father; she having as I said 
before educated him and the rest of her children, in the 
fear of the Lord, according to the knowledge given in 
that day; and took great care in placing him both at 
school and university. She sent him to Cambridge, (as 
being accounted more sober than Oxford) and placed him 
in a Puritan College called Catharine Hall, where was a 
very sober tender m.aster of the house, and a grave sober 
tutor; as also bhe appointed him one Ellis who was accounted 
a Puritan, she having brought him up in his youth, and goL 
him the preferment of a Fellow in that college. Thy grand- 
father coming from Cambridge young, was placed at the 
Inns of Court, but he being religiously inclined staid not long 
there, but cnme into Kent where his mother was; and he 
heard one Wilson preach who was suspended about three 
years, for not conforming to the bishops; he was an extra- 
ordinary man in his day. Thy grand-father saw beyond, 
and was delivered from the bishops and cotnmon prayer 
very early. When he was between twenty and twenty-one 
we inarried, and without a ring, and many of their formal 
dark words were left out upon his ordering it. He being so ' 
zealous against common [^rayer and superstitious customs, 
made him a provoib and a reproach amongst his iniimates 
anil relations; and to dishonour him they )-oported many 
false things against him, as that he should say he never asked 
God forgiveness for two sins; one was for going to church, 
the other was for saying the T>,ord's prayer. Indeed he waa 



27 

"SO sensible of their biind superstitions concerning what ihey 
-call their churches, as he would give disdaining v.ords about 
it; and speak of using their church timber for very common 
uses; to show his abhorrence to their placing holiness in it. 
When we had a child he refused tho midwife to say her 
formal prayer, but prayed himself, and gave ihanks to the 
Lord in a very sweet melted, way which caused great amaze- 
ment. He never went to the paiish church, hut went many 
miles to hear Wilson the minister I before mentioued, nor 
would go to prayers in the house, but prayed morning and 
evening with mo and his servants in our chamber, which 
•wrought great discontent in the family, we boarding with 
his uticle Sir Edward Partridge. He would not let the pa- 
rish priest baptize his child, but when it was eight days old 
had it carried in arms to this WHson five miles, about that 
time called P^iichaelmas. There was great seriousness and 
solemnity in doing this thing; we then looking upon it as an 
ordinance of God. Notes were sent to the professing people 
round about more than ten miles, to come to seek the Lord 
at such a time for a blessing upon his ordinance. There was 
none of their superstitious customs, and that they call gos- 
sips,* nor any person to hold the child but the father, whom 
the preacher v/hen he came spoke to to hold the child, as 
being the fittest person to take charge of him. It was a great 
cross to him, and a new business, and caused much gazing 
and wonderment ; for him (being a gallant and very young 
man,) in the face of so great an assembly, to hold the child 
in his arms. He received a large charge about educating 
his child and his duty towards the child, was declared to him. 
This was so new, that he was the first of quality in this 
country that had refused the common mode, in this zeal 
against dark formalities and the superstition of the times, he 
took the Scotch covenant against ail Popery and Popish inno- 
vations, as also the English engagement when the fight was 
at Edge Rill, (which happened when his child was about a 
month old) he had a commission sent him to he a colonel of 
a regiment of foot, and he raised eight hundred men without 
beat of drum, most of them professors and professor's sons. 
There were near six score vf)lunteers of his own company; 
himself going a volunteer and took no pay. He was after- 
v.'ards made a deputy lieutenant in the county of Kent, in 
■which employment he was zealous and diligent for the cause, 
insomuch as they looked upon him as like to be mad, because 
he reproved their carnal wisdom in managing of things; and 
told them it was the cause of God and they should trust God 

* I suppose Godmotherp. — Ed. 



in it, and do what in them lay, to act according to their co- 
venant and engafreiueiii which they had taken to opy)Ose 
with their lives Popery and Popish innovations. Within a 
lew days after his regiment was raised, there was a risinj:^ 
in the vale of Kent of many thousands, to the suppressing of 
which he and his new gathered undisciplined soldiers were 
commanded from th.eir rendezvous at Maidstone, where it 
was said, the vain company in the town had a design of 
doing iheui injury hy gunpowder. He having [)laced his 
men in such order as their inexperience and the time would 
permit, came to see me and take his leave of me before they 
encountered the enemy; but when he came he found me in 
danger of being put out of the house, in case the enemy pro- 
ceeded so far; he having had orders that morning to march 
with his regiment in company with some other regiments, 
to keep a pass which it was reported Prince Rupert was 
coming over tojoin.with the risers. It was a great surprise to 
him to find me in that danger, and it put him upon great diffi- 
culties to provide for my safety, and to return to his regiment 
at the time appointed. But he being of a diligent industrious 
mind and of a quick capacity, found out a course that did 
efl'ect it, which was this, he fetched a stage-coach from Ro- 
chester, (which was about seven miles Irom Maidstone, in 
whi(;h parish I was,) and in the night, carried me and my 
child to whom 1 gave suck, and my maid servant to Graves- 
end ; and there hired a barge for me to go to London, and 
took a solemn leave of me, as not expecting to see me again, 
and went post to his regiment. When I came to London I 
found the whole city in arms; and there was nothing but 
noise of drums and trumpets, clattering of arms, and crying 
arm! arm! for the enemy was near the city. This was at 
the time ol that bloody fight between the parliament forces 
and the king's, at Hounslow heath. Not many days after 
the risers being dispersed in Kent, my husband came to Lon- 
don, having behaved very approveable in getting restored 
the cattle and horses to the persons that had been plundered 
by the risers, who had taken a great quantity; but then were 
(the risers being dispersed,) in possession of the soldieis. 
Thy grand-father being advised with, what place they 
should secure the stock in, that the owners might come to 
claim what was theirs. He pointed to what they call their 
church, which he saw done ; but being applied to by the 
owners for their cattle, he went with them to this place, but 
he found the cattle were driven away by a colonel of that 
county into an island of his own; accounting them his spoil 
for his service which proved honournble, for thy grand-fa- 



2i> 

ther he having no less share in the suppression of the risers 
than the other colonel, but he applied himself to relieve them 
that were oppressed by plunder, while the other endeavoured 
the enriching himself. He went upon several services with 
this regiment. Was at the taking of the Lord Craven's 
House in Surrey, where several of his own company of vo- 
lunteers (men's sons of substance,) were of the forlorn hope. 
He was also at the fight at Newbery, where he was in im- 
minent danger, a bullet hitting him, but had lost its force to 
enter.* he lay some nights in the Held ; there ijeing neither 
time nor conveniency to pitch his tent which he had with 
him. Thev had scarcity of salt, so he would not venture 
upon eating flesh, but lived some days upon candied citron 
and bisket. He was m several other engagements. Then he 
went back with his regiment into Kent. The last service 
he was in, was at Arundel in Sussex, where he died. As I 
may future give thee an account, but I am not to let slip the 
taking notice to thee of his gallanL and true English spjrit. 
He opposed all arbitraryness in the discipline oi an army to 
which purpose he claimed his right as a colonel, to sit in the 
council of war ; which (there being a selfish cabal,) they 
refused ; engrossing the management of secret designs to 
themselves, which he gave testimony against, saying it was 
contrary to all military laws. 

Those of the cabal were one Merrick, and a Scotchman 

whose name was and he had his eye so much 

upon them, and discovered so much of their intending a trade 
in this engagement, or at least a compliance with the King 
for their own advantage, that he constantly published his 
dislike, insomuch that he was warned, by sdme of his inti- 
mates of having some mischief done him, if not his life sought; 
but he received such a dislike of those secret and selfish 
management of things, together with the exaltedness and 
bravery of the captains and colonels, that went out at first 
with Colonel Hallis, (many of them that went out being but 
ver}- mean men) and the cons'deration of what glory he had 
parted with, and into what measures we had put ourselves 
for the cause, that he coiichiHcfi the cause was lost for which 
he was engaged, and thereupon resolved not to go forth any 
more; and so after this fight returned with his regiment into 
Kent. Not long ai'ter, his own native country Sussex, was 
in danger from the cavalier party, which had taken Arundel, 
and fortified the town and castle. Sir William Waller, 
commanded in chief against them, to whose assistance the 
associated counties were sent for. Amongst the several 

* He lay som? nights in Lord Robert's Coach. 



80 

neginienf-\ thy sfrand-iaiher's regiment, was invitetl. H«; 
lookinsj nj)Oii tins engagement as a particular service to his 
own country, with great iVeedom went to Arundel; there 
they had a long siege before the town. After ilicy had taken 
the town they besieged the castle; 'twas a very i)ard dilli- 
cult service, but being taken, thy grand-father and Colonel 
Morlcy had the government and management of the castle 
committed to them; a few weeks after this, the calenture (a 
disease that was amongst the soldiers of the town and castle 
seized him at his (juarters, at one Wadies' near Arundel, 
whither he seat i'nr me, (in the depth of winter, frost and 
snow) from I^ondon to come to him. This was very diHi- 
cult for me to compass, being great with child of thy inother. 
The waters being out at Newington and several places, that 
we were forced to row in the highway with a boat, and take 
the things in the coach witii us; springs were lied to the 
bridles of the horses, and they swam over with the coach; 
the, coachmen were so sensible of these difficulties, and the 
badness of the ways between London and Arundel at that 
time of the year, made them refuse me almost throughout 
the neigliboiiring streets; only one widow woman that kept 
a coach and had taken a great deal of our money, and had a 
very great respect for thy grand-father, undertook to have her 
servant go, though he should hazard his horses. So 1 gave 
him a very great price (twelve pounds,) to carry me down 
and to return,* (if I was not with him) within a day's sta}'. 
It was a very tedious journey, wherein I was benighted and 
overthrown in the dark into a hedge: which when we came 
to get out of we had hardly room, for fear oi'iailing down a 
very sleep precipice that was on the other side ; which if wo 
had fallen on that side, we certainly had broken ourselves 
all to pieces. We had only a tzuide with us. that was the 
messenger from thy grand-father to me, who riding on a 
white horse was the only help we had to follow in the way. 
Coming to a garrison late at night, tlie commander whereof 
required to stop the coach, and give notice to him by shoot- 
ing of a gun, which the centinel did; and the colonel came 
imrnediaiclv down to inxi'e me to stay, and to encourage me 
said my husband was li!;e to mend ; that he understood I 
was near iny tiqie. and bcsecched me I would not hazard 
myself; upon which the coachman being sensible of the diffi- 
culties he should undergo, would needs force me to lodge in 
the garrison; saying his horses would not hold out, and they 
would be spoiled. To which I replied, I was obliged to pay 
for all the horses if thev suflercd, and I was resolved not to 



* W Ik'iIkt I was wiili him or not. — E. P. 



31 

go out of the coach unless it broke, until it came so near '.he 
house that I could compass it on foot ; so finding my reso- 
lution, he put on. When we came to Arundel we met with 
a most dismal sight. The town being depopulated, all the 
windows broken wiih the great guns ; the soldiers making use 
of all the shops and lower rooms lor stables, and there was 
no light in the town but what came from the light in the 
stables. We passed through the town towards his quarters, 
within a quarter of a mile of the house, the horses were at a 
stand, and we could not understand the reason of it ; so we 
sent our guide down to the house for a candle and lanthorn, 
and to get some to come to our assistance. Upon which the 
report came to my husband that I was come; who told them 
they were mistaken, he knew I could not come [ was so near 
my time, but they affirming it was so. He ordered them to 
sit him up in bed that I may see her, said he, when she 
comes, but the wheel of the coach being pitclied into the 
root of a tree, it was some time before 1 could come. It 
was about twelve at night when I got there, and as soon as I 
put my foot into the hall, (there being a pair of slairs out of the 
hall into his chamber,) I heard his voice — why will you he to 
me? " If she be come let me hear her voice," which struck 
me so that 1 had hardly power to get up stairs, though I 
was borne up by two. He seeing me, and the fever having 
took his head in a manner, sprang up as if he would come 
out of the bed, saying let me embrace thee before I die. I am 
going to thy God and my God. I found most of his officers 
about the bed attending on him with great care and significa- 
tion of sorrow, for the condition he w.-is in. they greatly 
loving him. The purple spots came out of him llie day 
before, and now were struck, and the fever got into his head 
upon which they caused bun to keep his bed, having not 
before been persuaded to go to bed any day since his illness till 
then, which had been five days before his spots came out. 
They seeing his dangerous condition, (so many of Kentish 
men both commanders and others having died of it in a 
week's time, near his quarters.) constrained him to keep his 
chamber. But such was the activeness of his spirit and 
stoutness of his heart, that he could not yield to the illness 
that was upon him ; but covenanted with them that he would 
shoot birds with his cross bow out of the window, which he 
did, till the fever took his head, and the spots went in after 
that, the fever was so violent, and he so young and strong of 
body, and his blood so hot, (being but about twenty-three) that 
they were forced to sit round the bed to keep him in, or else 
they must have tied him; but he spake no evil, or raving 



S9 

words at all, but spake seriously iiboul his dying to my 
doctlor, whom I brought down with rue by his order. He 
appointed him what physick he should give him, saying also: 
what you do do quickly, if this does not do nothing will help 
me; she spake most aflectionately to me, and very wittily to 
his olFic-ers that were about his bed (but no way harmful,) us to 
their several offices, as the marshal and others about keeping 
their prisoner, and making up the breach and to keep the 
watch, by which he meant he preventing his gettingoutof bed 
(which he attempted to do often,) or putting out his legs and 
arms. His breath was so very scorcfiing that it made his 
lips chnp'd. He discerning my mouth to be cool, did hardlv 
))ermit me to take it off to breath, but would cry out. Oh 
don't go from me, which the doctor, my maid servant, 
and the attendants were very much troubled at ; looking 
upon the infection to be so high, that it endangered the in- 
fection of myself and child by taking in his breath into me; 
I also being very near my time found it a very uneasy pos- 
ture for me, (two hours at a time if not more) to bow myself 
to him to coo! his lips with my mou;h, the physick he ordered 
being applied to him, ho observed the manner of iis operation 
to be a signification of death, and called out to the doctor in 
these like words: this won't do, I am a dead man. The doctor 
had concluded the same, upon the like sign ; though he said 
nothing; he called upon me again to lay my mouth to his, 
which I did for a considerable time, and he would be very 
cjniet, which I was able to bear this posture of bowing upon 
him, and in this stillness he fell asleep, which they that were 
bv observing, constrained mc to go to bed. Considering my 
condition, and that I might leave my maid servant with him 
who might brintr me an account, I was prevailed with and 
went to bed. When he awaked he seemed much refreshed, 
and took great notice of the maid servant, saying you are 
my wife's maid, (for she waited on me in my chamber) where 
is my wife, said he, "how does my boy?" and many par- 
ticulars he enquired of her, concerning me. Go to my wife, 
said he. and tell her I am almost ready to embrace her. 
I am so refreshed with my sleep. She came u|) and 
give me this account, upon which I would have rose and 
come down, but she persuaded me not, saying he would go 
to sleep again, and I would but hinder it; so I sent her down 
with a message to him and went to rest; not thinking but 
that he according to the description she made, might have 
been in a possibility of recovering, so I lay late In the morn- 
ing, when I came down, I saw a great change upon him. 
Hnd sadness upon all faces about him. which stunned me. I 



S3 

having left him in hopes as before. Ho spoke aflectionately to 
me; and several weighty and serious expressions he had; at 
last he called to nic — "come my dear, let mc kiss thee before 
! die !" which he did willi that heartiness, as if he would have 
left his breath in me. Come once more, said he, let me kiss 
thee and take my leave of thee; which he did in the same 
manner as before; saying now no more, no more, nevei* 
no more. Which having done, he fell into a very great 
agony. He having but about seven days illness, of this vio- 
lent contagious fever, and it not having impaired his strength 
but inflamed his blood and heightened his spirits, and being 
a young lusty man, he in this agony, snapped his arms and 
legs with such a force that the veins seemed to sound like 
catgut tighted upon an instrument of musick. Oh! this w-as 
•^ dreadful sight to me; my very heart strings seemed to me 
to break, and let my heart I'all into my belly. Tlie doctor and 
my husband's chaplain, and some of the chief oilicers who 
were by, observing his violent condition, and that the bed 
seemed as if it would fall into pieces under him, considered 
together what to do, and taking notice that this befel him on 
his takincr leave of me, they concluded that they inust either 
persuade mo or take me by forco from the bed ; his great 
love to me, and beholding me there, being the occasion of 
this. Upon which they came to me and desired me to go 
from the bedside to the fire, for my being there occasioned 
this deep perplexity; and while 1 staid there he could not 
<lie; whicii word was so great, so much too big to enter into 
me; that I like an astonished, amazed creature, stamped 
with my foot, and cried, die! die! must he die! I cannot go 
from him. Upon which two of them gently lifted me in their 
arms and carried me to the fire, which was at a pretty dis* 
iance from the bed, and there they held me from going to 
him again, at which time I wept not, but stood silent and 
struck. Soon after I was brought from the bed he lay very 
still, and when they thought his sight was gone that he could 
not see me, they let me go, I standing at his bedside saw the 
most amiable pleasant countenance that I ever beheld. Just 
like a person ravished with something that he beheld ; smil- 
ing like a young child, when, (as the saying is) they see 
angels. He lay about an hour in this condition, and towards 
sunset he turned quick about, and called upon a kinsman of 
his, ^'Anthony come quickly^" at which very instant we 
found him come riding into the yard, having come many 
miles to see him. Soon after this he died, it being in the 
twelfth month. When he was dead then could I weep. So 
soon as the breath was out of his body, they immediately 

5 



34 

took me up into a chamber and suffered me no more to see 
him, for tear that in my condition it should atlrighi me. He 
was put in a coffin, the next morning early, and privately 
carried away in his own ammunition waggon to Ringmore, 
a parish in which he was born and some of his ancestors 
lav ; he being only accompanied by his officers and sol- 
diers, that no notice might be taken of his being buried, 
because it was expected and intended that a funeral should 
be made, according to the formalities and manner of one of 
his condition in the army, and accordingly there was order 
taken with the officers and soldiers to put themselves in a 
posture for the time appointed. But when I came to London 
and the will was opened, and the condition he died in exa- 
mined, 'twas found that things were not in a condition to 
admit of such a charge, which would have been some hun- ' 
dreds. He died above two thousand pounds in debt; great 
part of it contracted by the wars; as £300 to the Irisli busi- 
ness, £500 to Guildhall, all his ammunition waggons, tents, 
furniture, and accommodation for him in several engage- 
ments ; besides going out a volunteer, and keeping a table at 
Arundel for those of his own company that were volunteers; 
he had so largely expended in those concerns, that all my 
portion was spent, which was £1(500, and his Michaelmas 
rents were paid to him at Arundel, and he had when he died 
but twelve pounds in money in his trunk, and there were 
many great sum? to be paid at his quarters, also at Arundel 
and several other places in his march ; and where his sol- 
diers had laid, there were bills for provision, for horses that 
attended his j)erson and carriages; wages to his waggoners, 
grooms, and such like, that attended him in the army, 
having pay for none of them. Besides all this there was a 
mortgage on his farm, called Chandlers on the Downs, of 
£300 or thereabouts, which he took up of his sister's portion 
money. He also mortgaged another part of his land to one 
Banks of Maid'ftone, treasurer of the Kentish regiment, for 
about £'200, taken up but a few dnys before he marched to 
Arundel, for his present accommodation, hisMichaelmns rents 
not being paid ; then he also had contracted with Capt. Cow- 
trop, who had a lease of twenty-one years, of his woods at 
the Frith, to pay him at cxjiiringof his lease; £.500 odd money 
for standars to be left in the wood^; which upon non-pay- 
ment of it he li;id power to cut down and grub up the woods,, 
this was payable within a year after his death, which was 
concluded by those that understood things, to be of necessity 
to be paid. 



35 

Now* all that ever he had of pay was that £150 or £200, 
which I sent by the deputy lieutenant to pay, least the mort- 
gage that was made should be forfeited. And now my dear 
child, after 1 have related what 1 can remember at present, 
of his parents, his education, marriage, and g(Mng into the 
wars, and death in the wars, (though not in battle, yet of 
the disease in the castle of Arundel after it was taken) 1 will 
give thee some small hint of the many excellent things that 
he was eminently exemplary in. As his zeal, generosity, 
compassionate, charitable mind, his affableness, justice, in- 
genuity, activity, industry and courage ; without harshness 
or cruelty, to mention first his zeal for the Lord, (for that it 
truly was, which he engaged for in his day) he began very 
early to see the superstitious follies and fruitless devotions, 
both in the ministry and whole worship of the Church of 
England; he abhored their manner of making and ordaining 
bishops, and ministers, and ecclesiastical officers, (so called) 
the common prayer-book, their surplices, and the adminis- 
tration of their sacraments; as their baptisms and the Lord's 
supper. This turning in him proceeded from a glimpse of 
the dawning of the day wherein prayer was to be put up in 
the spirit and in the understanding; and that there was a 
spirit of prayer and supplication in which any one was to 
have acceptance with God. Nay, that the very sighs and 
groans were to go forth from that spirit which alone can 
make intercession. He also saw in the little measure of light, 
(according to the (Jispensations of that day) that the priests 
were not to preach for hire ; but were to be sent of the Lord 
and to reach the conscience. This made him decline those 
false dead ways, and cleave in heart to those people called 
Puritans, amongst whom was his delight, to be exercised in 
the worship of God and in their chaste conversation, coupled 
with fear ; for in that day those that feared the Lord, went 
under the nickname of Puritans. 

He in all company would stand a witness very boldly 
against the doctrine, in some points; but more especially the 
worship of the Church of England ; and that he might have 
arguments to overturn them in their own view, and to mani- 
fest the truth of what he said to the tender ; he was a diligent 
reader of the Scriptures, and kept a common place-book, in 
his pocket, where he entered scriptures, for proof of the right 
worship. In the zeal of the Lord, he engaged in the Scotch 
protestation against all Popery and Popish innovations; and 
to answer his engagements, he received a commission to be 

* It seems she received £150 or JE200 after her husband's death, which she 
made use of to discharge one of the mortgages. — E. P. 



30 

a colonel <jf foot (about the time of Edgehill fight,) under the 
Earl of Essex ; he furnished himself at his oun charge, and 
went out without |)iiy. Atterwards he vvi's made a deputy 
lieutenant in Kent. In both which undeitakings, he ex[jressed 
great zeal against superstition; encouraging iiis soldiers and 
requiring of theai to break down idolatrous pictures and 
crosses; going into the steeple houses and taking the sur- 
plices and distributing them to big bellied women. When 
he was npon the service of searching Popish houses, what- 
ever crucifixes, beads and such like he found, if they were 
ever so rich he destroyed them, and reserved not one of 
them, for its comeliness or costly workmanship, nor saved 
any thing for his own use. I find freedom to mention one 
passage in this pursuit of destroying Po]iish relicks and pic- 
tures. There was a parliainent man who was also a deputy 
lieutenant of the county, a great slirer in the parliament cause 
and his wife a zealous Puritan. This man was assisting to 
him and his companion in this searching of Popish houses, and 
destroying their pictures and trumpery. Thy grand-father 
going one day to their house to visit them, as he passed 
Through the hall he spied several superstitious pictures, as 
of the crucifixon of Christ, iiis resurrection, and such like, 
very large pictures that were of great ornatnent to the hall, 
and were removed out of their parlour to manifest a neglect 
of them ; but he looked upon it as a very unequal thing, to 
destroy such things in the i'opish, and leave them in their 
opposers ; he drew out his sword and cut them all out of 
their frames, and spoiled them upon the sword's point, and 
went into tlie parlour with them. The woman of the house 
being there, he said to her what a shame it is. that thy hus- 
band should be so zealous a prosecutor oi' the Papists, and 
spare such things in his own house ; but, saiih he, I have 
acted impartial judgment, and have destroyed them here. 
As he was thus zealous, so he was just and merciful in it, as 
the converting none of their estates to his own use ; nay, 
refusing to buy any of the goods that were plundeied from 
them, nor never made use of one pound's worth, I dare aver, 
of any one thing that belonged to ihem. He had very great 
proflers, from those in power, of houses and goods of those 
called delinquents, (and because his diligent minding the j-iar- 
liament alviirs, cattsed his family to be rnuch in London) all 
whic:! he refused, and rather chose to give SO.s-. a week for 
lodgings, than to touch with any one of those things. One 
considerable tiling I shall instance, which was Leeds castle in 
Kent. It was seized on by the parliament and made a gar- 
rison, and he intended the commander of it, and greatly 



37 

pressed to make use of the goods (it being well furnished,) 
and have his family to live in the castle, but he refused it. 
Also another house was offered, Hollingborn, (very well fur- 
nished, within a few miles of this castle) he refused it also, 
giving them an answer to this effect: — That he durst not 
make use of any man's estate or goods, nor dwell in any man's 
sequestered house, much less this that was his uncle's Sir 
Thomas Culpeper's. He was also so merciful in his admin- 
istermg justice, that I never heard of any man that could 
rightly charge him of unmercifulness to any of the persons 
he was concerned with in the cause he was engaged in. 
And thus as to those particular concerns, the whole frame of 
his mind, temper, and course of life, was in the exercise of 
compassion and charitableness, in which there have been 
many instances given me by persons that observed him in 
the places where he was engaged and quartered, besides 
what I myself have seen, having had converse with him 
from twelve years old to his dying day; one I shall mention 
that I had from the mayor of Maidstone, in Kent. He brought 
me a bill of £3 after my husband was dead, with my husband's 
hand to it, telling me that as he was walking in the street 
with him, a poor man was had to prison, and he made most 
miserable moan, whereat thy grand-flither stopped the bailiff" 
and as<ied him what they were having him to prison for? 
He answered for debt, at which he said you shall not carry 
him Mr. Mayor, lay down the money and I will see it dis- 
charged. He was very generous in his assistance and return 
of kindnesses; also very frequent in alms deeds, especially 
in the time when the Irish Protestants came over upr)n the 
massacre there. Also to the plundered minisiers and maimed 
soi(Jiers that were wounded in the army. He rarely gave 
less than 205. piece at a time at the private fasts, where these 
sufferings v^cru presented before him, and that was constantiv 
once and sometimes twice a week. 1 shall mention here "a 
very remarkable instance of his charity to those of Ireland. 
We were at a fr.st at Tuilk street in London, where one Thos. 
Case, a Puritan preacher, (as they were called) set forth in 
a doleful manner, the great di'^lress that the Irish Protestants 
were in, and the need they stood in of assistance to get over 
to England. He related it so affect ingly, that it pierced my 
husband greatly, and as he was writing the sermon after him, 
he felt an engagement in his mind to give £20. Afterwards 
he considered this was determined when he was warmed 
v/ith a sense of their misery, and as he grew cooler he might 
be drawn from the engagement of his mind. Whereupon he 
took his book and wrote a most folemn engagement before 



38 

the Lonl, to perform il when he came home; setting his 
name to it and using such hke expressions as these: — That 
his hand writing should be a witness agains him. When all 
was over, there was appointed at the door two men of quality 
to stand will) basons to receive the collections for the Irish 
Protestants; and some others (that were oiricers.) were ap- 
pointed to receive for the maimed soldiers. My husband 
as he passed out, put in 5ps. of gold to the Irish, and one piece, 
into the other bason; so he went away, and said nothing to 
me of it ; but v\ hen we came to our lodgings he refused to 
sup, but went up to writing. After some time, he called me 
and bid me fetch £1.5 in a bag; when I brought it and he 
had taken it of me, he spoke to me to this purpose : — Now I 
have made sure of the thing, I will acquaint thee what it is 
to do ; so he told me the business, and read to me the engage- 
ment in hi*; book, and the letter he had written to this Thomas 
Case, giving him an account how it was with iiim, but not 
setting his name to it, declaring that he had given it to the 
Lord, and desired to be unknown and untaken notice of his 
foot-boy, was sent away with this money and letter sealed 
up, with these orders: that he should observe what livery he 
wore, by turning his coat the wrong outwards, when lie came 
near the place; and he only to deliver the money and letters 
into his hands, and not stay to be asked any questions. Next 
day those that received the collections went to Thos. Case's 
house, and speaking how very bountiful one yun : gentleman 
had been, in putting in five pieces At which T. C. replied, 
last night late 1 received £1.5 iVom the same person; he de- 
Kirinining to give £20, and having no more about him at that 
time that he could spare than £5. The next first day, or in 
a few first days after this, T. C. provoked the people to en- 
large their bounty by this gallant young gentleman's example, 
and there related the whole business; but chiefly took notice 
of his endeavour not to be known. 

He was of a most courteous affable carriage towards all. 
Most ingeniously inclined from a very lad, carving and form- 
ine things, with his knife for his tools. So industriously 
active, that he rarely ever was idle. For when he could 
not be employed aliroad in shooting at a mark with guns, 
pistols, cross-bows or long-bows, managing his horses, which 
he brought up and managed himself; leaching them boldness 
in charging, and such things as were needl'ul for service. 
When he could not, as I said, be thus engaged abroad ; then 
he would fence within doors, making: cross-bows, placing the 
sight with that accurateness as if it had lieen his trade; 
making bow-strings, casting bullets of all sorts for his car- 



39 

bines, and feathering his arrows, pulling his watch to pieces 
to string it or mend any defect ; taking to pieces and nnending 
the house clock; training his servants and himself; using of 
postures of war according to books that he had for that pur- 
pose. He was also a great artist in shooting and fishing, 
making of lines, and ordering of baits and things for the pur- 
pose. He was also a great lover of coursing, and he managed 
his dogs himself, which things I mention to shew his ingenuity; 
but his mind was out of the vanity of those things when he 
was engaged in religion. He was most aHectionately tender 
to me and his child, beyond what I had known or observed 
in any, the circumstance considered of his youth. Gallantry 
and active mind, which created him a great deal of business, 
that might have occasioned a stop in his tender regard to 
us ; but on the contrary, I do not remember that ever he let 
an opportunity slip, of acquainting me with his condition 
when absent; either by writing or message he hath often 
wrote letters, where he baited on purpose lo send to me by 
travellers that he might meet on the road. And when he 
was engaged at the fight at Newberry, after the battle was 
over, he gave the messenger (that was sent to the parliament 
to acquaint them with the issue of the battle,) one piece, only 
to knock at the door of my lodgings in Black Friars, and leave 
word that he saw him well after the battle, there being time 
for no more; which message of his, in all probability, saved 
my life. I being with child of thv mother, was sick of the 
measles, which could not come out, because of ihe exercise 
of my mind ; by reason of my having heard of the battle, 
this message was left between three and four o'clock in the 
morning, at the hearing of which, my oppression was rolled 
off my spirits and stomach like the removal of a great stone, 
and the measles came immediately forth. I must add to all 
this gentleness, sweetness, compassion and affableness, and 
courtesy, a courage without harshness or cruelty ; but un- 
daunted in what he went about, which was rare to be found 
with the above mentioned excellencies. He was of a gene- 
rous mind, which made him very liberal in rewards, and 
bountiful in return of kindnesses. He was r Iso very hos- 
pitable ; his generous mind delighted in entertaining those 
that were engaged in the cause with him ; not in excess, but 
in great freedom and heartiness. This was always seasoned 
with savory and edifying discourse, in which he would en- 
courage others and rejoice in thier encouragement ; that the 
Lord went out with their host and returned with them, to 
make mention of his gracious dealings with them. 
Thy grand-mother, 

Mary Pf.ivi\gto!V. 



y' 



